Amid Tensions, Oscar-nominated Israeli Animation Sparks Dialogue Between Jews and Muslims in Sweden

Filmmaker Tal Kantor's Israeli-French coproduction, the animated short film 'Letter to a Pig,' exploring intergenerational trauma and its potential to lead to empathy, has received numerous accolades. Now, a rabbi in Sweden has shown the film to Jewish-Muslim audiences to encourage dialogue post October 7 and the Israel-Gaza war.

Published in Haaretz: https://www.haaretz.com/jewish/2025-12-11/ty-article-magazine/.premium/oscar-nominated-israeli-animation-sparks-dialogue-between-jews-and-muslims-in-sweden/0000019a-fd77-d2e4-a1ff-fff7ab270000

Israeli animation filmmaker and visual artist Tal Kantor, 37, has taken her film "Letter to a Pig" to more film festivals, master classes, school seminars, and public screenings than she can easily remember. These events have taken place all over the world since the film was first screened in 2022, and there are more to come. From Harvard University to the Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna, from the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures in L.A. to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Zagreb, it seems like Kantor and her film have been everywhere.

The 17-minute piece of animated art has also won Kantor multiple prizes. These include the Ophir Award, known as "the Israeli Oscar," the Best Narrative Short at the Ottawa International Animation Festival, the Excellence Award at the Japan Media Arts Festival and prizes, and honorable mentions at animation festivals in Belgium and France, and even an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Short Film in 2024.

The film itself took about five years to complete because of the meticulous hand-drawn animation style, which is combined with live action and involves visionary techniques and imagery. It was produced by The Hive Studio in Israel and Miyu Productions in France. It is based on one of Kantor's real-life childhood memories, and it depicts the way pain and collective trauma are transmitted from one generation to another, and the role they play in human history, society, and identity.

The film's main character is a girl who, together with her classmates, listens to the testimony of a Holocaust survivor in an Israeli school. Part of the testimony is a letter that the survivor wrote to a pig which, as he remembers, saved his life while he was hiding from the Nazis in a pigsty. In the film, the young schoolgirl sinks into a disturbing surrealistic dream while listening to the testimony. During the dream, new perspectives of good and evil are created in the girl's mind, and these expose her and her fellow students to the results of violence, victimhood, and trauma.

The pig's role shifts from savior to monster to victim, while the young children also go through a transformation. They start out as passive listeners and gradually become a threatening mob. The Holocaust may be the film's starting point, but "Letter to a Pig" is not a "Holocaust film." It's about universal motifs such as violence and suffering created by intergenerational trauma, which develops into a siege mentality. But it's also about empathy and the possibility to recognize other narratives through dialogue.

For Rabbi Moshe David HaCohen, 46, the narratives of pain and suffering, leading to endless conflict, actually drew him to the piece. HaCohen has just started his second term as the rabbi of the small Jewish community in Sweden's third-largest city, Malmö. In 2017, at the beginning of his first term as Malmö's rabbi (which ended in 2022), HaCohen founded Amanah, an organization based on his cooperation with a local imam to counter discrimination and build trust between the city's Jewish and Muslim populations. For a few years this worked very well, but the organization gradually dissolved as a result of the October 7 massacre, the ensuing Israel-Gaza war and the polarization caused by these events.

HaCohen is now launching a new organization named B.R.I.T – an acronym for Building Resilience, Identity, and Trust, and a reference to the Hebrew word for "covenant." He says the organization will work to counter polarization and foster relations between Jews and Muslims in several European countries. "I saw how Tal took something which is seen as almost holy like the Holocaust, and I was impressed by the way she asked complex questions that society today has to deal with," HaCohen told Haaretz in an interview in Stockholm. "The most serious question is how do we dismantle this complex conflict and create trust. Telling stories, like Tal does in her film, is a way to reach the real issue and move forward to create that kind of trust. People need hope, and I thought that during this time of conflict it would be good to create a debate based on the film."

One of the side effects of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the conflict in many European countries over the last two years, between Jewish Israel supporters and Muslim Palestinian supporters, who are entangled in cycles of suspicion and hostility. Jews have experienced rising levels of antisemitism, aggressive demonstrations at which protestors declare support for Hamas, and accusations of being responsible for the situation in Gaza because of their support for Israel.

Many European Muslims have found themselves on the receiving end of traditional anti-immigration and xenophobic attitudes, which are now amplified in response to the actions of elements of the pro-Palestinian solidarity movement. Even though there is now a cease-fire in the Middle East, tensions between the pro-Israel and pro-Palestinian camps and their supporters in many European countries persist.

And so Rabbi HaCohen asked Kantor to bring her film to Sweden in November to try to create productive dialogue. Kantor says that the film has taken part in about 150 festivals so far, and she has attended many of them personally. Meeting audiences together with the international crew who worked with her on the film is always important to her. "The film started from a very personal experience, and it has now become universal. Meeting audiences …. means everything to me," she says. "After screenings, people open up to me; they talk about their own experiences and their own perspectives. Some of them cry and open their hearts while talking about the multi-generational trauma they see in the film."

Still, for Kantor this wasn't just another invitation to a European cultural event. Instead of festival curators and ceremony producers, the invitation came from a rabbi who wanted to show her film as a tool for creating change and providing hope. Kantor couldn't refuse.

From right: Rabbi Moshe David HaCohen, Somar Al-Naher, Tal Kantor and Anneli Rådestad. Photo: Peter Lööv Roos

"Moshe David explained who he was and told me about what he does," Kantor told Haaretz in a local Stockholm café a day before she returned to Israel. "I immediately understood that he wasn't interested in the film because of its Oscar nomination or its international success. It was about the film's content…. The way he talked about it moved me deeply. He recognized its exploration of the danger of inherited trauma, fear, and narratives of cruelty, and how remaining in a place of victimhood can keep that cycle alive.

"He also saw how the film gestures toward compassion for all people [and towards] humanity and hope. It meant a great deal to me that he saw in the film a tool for opening a space for dialogue in such a polarized moment."

Rest of the article here: https://www.haaretz.com/jewish/2025-12-11/ty-article-magazine/.premium/oscar-nominated-israeli-animation-sparks-dialogue-between-jews-and-muslims-in-sweden/0000019a-fd77-d2e4-a1ff-fff7ab270000

The Only Way Forwrad

‘The only way forward’ – Published as part of Haaretz' global projct – Jewish-Muslim Relations Around the World Collapsed Since October 7 and Gaza. Can They Recover?

Amanah was one of the most important Jewish-Muslim cooperation projects to exist in Europe before October 7. Founded eight years ago in the Swedish city of Malmö by Moshe David HaCohen, then the city's rabbi, and Salahuddin Barakat, a local imam, it aimed to build trust between the city's Jews and Muslims and to counter discrimination. This specific name for the organization was chosen because in Hebrew and Arabic, Amanah refers to the principles of faith and trust.

When it was still active, Amanah ran school programs and developed digital tools to combat racism and monitor social media, addressing many of the challenges for which Malmö had gained notoriety: Holocaust denial in schools, rising incidents of antisemitism every time violence broke out in the Middle East; and escalating Islamophobia culminating in the burning of Qurans by right-wing extremists on multiple occasions.

Amanah's activities were put on hold immediately after October 7, initially because of a statement posted on Facebook by Barakat's Islamic Academy that was deemed highly offensive to the Jewish community. "As Muslims, we stand with our oppressed brothers and sisters in their right to fight against these injustices for freedom, justice, and peace," read the post, which was written when the October massacre was still ongoing. While the post was later updated to offer condolences "to all the innocent victims of violence," the damage had been done. Although dialogue between HaCohen and several Muslim leaders continued and even helped prevent violence during the Eurovision Song Contest in Malmö last May, Amanah officially disbanded in December 2024.

Moshe David HaCohen, Photo: Herald Nilsson

HaCohen is now launching a new organization named B.R.I.T – an acronym for Building Resilience Identity and Trust, and a reference to the Hebrew word for "covenant." He says the organization will work to foster relations between Jews and Muslims in several European countries, based on the premise that security and safety "can't only be based on fear, guards and security cameras – it needs a deeper understanding and working together to overcome the problems."

Jewish-Muslim bridge-building initiatives have been tested in other Scandinavian countries as well over the past year and a half. Before October 7, Jews and Muslims in Oslo regularly held dialogue meetings under the auspices of the Council for Religious and Life Stance Communities (the umbrella organization for Norwegian religious organizations).

"After October 7, cooperation became a serious challenge to both sides," says Rabbi Joav Melchior, the leader of Oslo's Jewish community. "For members of the Jewish community, it was a challenge to deal with Muslim leaders who claimed Israel was committing genocide and spread anti-Israeli conspiracy theories," he adds. "Muslim leaders, on the other hand, saw the support of Zionism as a challenge and expected their Jewish counterparts to denounce it."

Although no major interfaith events have been held in the city over the past year-and-a-half, Melchior says Jewish and Muslim clergy continue to meet and share their thoughts in more intimate gatherings organized through the umbrella organization. "There is a will to improve relations, even though it won't be like it was before October 7," says Melchior, stressing the importance of continuing to talk.

Salaam Shalom was a Danish initiative launched a decade ago that aimed to facilitate dialogue between Middle Eastern communities based in Copenhagen. Inspired by a similar program in Berlin and partially funded by the European Union, the program, which ran for four years, was started by Tali Padan, an Israeli who grew up in the United States and now lives in the Danish capital.

After October 7, Padan wanted to arrange a get-together of some of the former activists and proposed holding a Hanukkah candle-lighting event. The response was not especially encouraging.

"In that first meeting we had only one Muslim, about 20-to-30 Israeli and Danish Jews, and some non-Jewish Danes," she recalls. "The atmosphere was heavy, but there were group activities. We talked, and we lit candles despite it all."

Padan was pleasantly surprised not long thereafter when one of her former Muslim partners, of Lebanese origin, suggested reviving the program. "I was shocked by his initiative because some of his family members were killed in an Israeli air-strike," she says. "Still, we went ahead and the first event took place this January. This time, the room was full. About 50 people, Danish Jews and Muslims, talked about activism and building bridges with a new energy."

Tali Padan, Photo: Thomas Busk

In contrast to the past, she says, in this latest iteration of her Jewish-Muslim partnership organization, the feel-good experience is not the main point. "This time it feels like people are making a powerful choice to commit to unity and peace," says Padan. "They know it's the only way forward."